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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27375160">what doesn't kill you (doesn't help things)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odaigahara/pseuds/Odaigahara'>Odaigahara</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arachnophobia, Gen, Lies, Morality | Patton Sanders Angst, Phobias, Post-Episode: Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux | Sanders Sides, Science Experiments, Unhappy Ending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:49:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,485</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27375160</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odaigahara/pseuds/Odaigahara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Patton knew he had irrational fears. He was at the core of Thomas’s childhood memories and all the muddled emotion and unformed biases that came with them; he’d internalized whatever happened when Thomas was little, from accidentally closing himself into a dark room to having a dead spider fall into the tub while he was taking a bath. Children didn’t react rationally to fears. They only wanted comfort, to be told that something was safe. As an adult Thomas was different, obviously, but Patton was still Patton. Nostalgia had its sharper edges.</p><p>It kept him from staying in the same room as Virgil, sometimes.</p><p>That was why he said yes, when Logan asked if he’d mind helping with an experiment. Not the only reason- he wanted to hang out with Logan, because Logan was cool and hadn’t felt listened to recently and Patton was so tired of messing up- but a big one.</p><p>Logan needed attention, anyway.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Morality | Patton Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders &amp; Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders &amp; Morality | Patton Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>what doesn't kill you (doesn't help things)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First BTHB fill! Thanks very much to alicat54c and parallelmonsoon for beta reading.</p><p>TW's at end notes.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Patton knew he had irrational fears. He was at the core of Thomas’s childhood memories and all the muddled emotion and unformed biases that came with them; he’d internalized whatever happened when Thomas was little, from accidentally closing himself into a dark room to having a dead spider fall into the tub while he was taking a bath. Children didn’t react rationally to fears. They only wanted comfort, to be told that something was safe. As an adult Thomas was different, obviously, but Patton was still Patton. Nostalgia had its sharper edges.</p><p>It kept him from staying in the same room as Virgil, sometimes. Virgil had his tarantula he liked to summon, even though he kept her in his room most of the time-- but even without his pet he was somehow, ineffably spidery. When he was on edge or really relaxed, his joints didn’t move just right; he unfolded, spindly and skittery, or moved unexpectedly, or glanced up from his perch on the kitchen counter at 3 AM with clusters of glittering eyes, before he noticed the lapse and banished them. His spider traits were like Janus’s extra arms, part of him but mostly hidden. Patton should have loved them unconditionally.</p><p>He couldn’t help his instinctive flinch, though. Virgil would move wrong, or be somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, or jump and dart away when Roman startled him- and Patton would yelp. He’d jerk back, or pale, or even just have his heart spike in his throat, but it didn’t matter how subtle his reaction was because Virgil could tell. He was Anxiety. He could always tell.</p><p>And Patton, in turn, could tell how much the reaction hurt him. He was Emotions. He could always tell.</p><p>That was why he said yes when Logan asked if he’d mind helping with a psychological experiment, even though Virgil insisted it wasn’t necessary. Not the only reason- he wanted to hang out with Logan, because Logan was cool and hadn’t felt listened to recently and Patton was so tired of messing up- but a big one.</p><p>A <em> bug </em> one, Patton tried, because there was never a bad time to think of a pun to use later. <em> Sorry I’m such arach? I spider with my little eyeder- </em></p><p>He knocked on Logan’s door, and smiled to see Logan perk up at his appearance. “Patton,” he greeted, stepping aside so he could enter. “I specified that we were to meet at 1 PM. It’s 1:03.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Patton said sheepishly, glancing around Logan’s room with barely-repressed excitement. He hadn’t been here in months; Logan liked to keep it the specific way he liked it, so any other Side had to be carefully supervised so they wouldn’t knock over a stack of papers or move a Post-It note that told Thomas where the bathroom was in a friend’s house. Logan’s daily workload was a lot. “I’ll try not to be so tarantu-late next time.”</p><p>“Please do not engage in inane wordplay throughout the course of this experiment,” Logan said, sounding pained, and Patton nodded, wide-eyed.</p><p>“Sure, kiddo! I’d never do anything experi-meant to bother you.” Logan sighed. Patton’s grin faded a little- had he gone too far? This was a game between them, but maybe Logan wasn’t really playing, maybe he never had been- but Logan straightened up in the next second, tugging his tie neat and motioning Patton over to a pair of beanbags on the ground.</p><p>“In the interest of conforming to your usual standards of comfort, I have aspired to make the experimental setup ‘cozy’,” Logan said. Patton plopped down onto the light blue beanbag and saw the rest of Logan’s room shift away, dreamspace unfurling around them like a butterfly creeping out of its chrysalis. It took a moment to settle, since Logan wasn’t as practiced at conjuring as Roman or Janus, but after a moment their surroundings shivered into place: cream walls and soft lighting and a bookcase full of knickknacks, like a mix of Patton’s room and the setting for Thomas’s Cartoon Therapy videos. The subatomic particle poster on the wall had shifted to a hang in there! poster with a cartoon opossum in place of the usual kitten. Patton beamed at it, cheered- opossums were so cute with their little hissy triangle faces- and Logan cleared his throat.</p><p>“The procedure is incredibly simple. You’ve expressed interest in ridding yourself of your irrational fear of spiders, yes?” Patton nodded, a quiver of trepidation poking holes in his voice, and Logan adjusted his glasses. “Right. In order to combat this fear, we are going to attempt to cause your mind to associate the appearance of spiders with positive stimuli; if all goes well, this should cause your fear of spiders to fade, as their existence will become inextricably entwined with things that bring you joy. Is my explanation clear? I can simplify if it isn’t clear.”</p><p>“It’s clear,” Patton said, and if his voice was a little thin, Logan didn’t comment. He only watched with those sharp brown eyes of his, all of him concentrated into a single point of focus, the swerving tip of a compass. Logan <em> focused </em> was as bright and unmovable as a star.</p><p>Patton wondered if Virgil didn’t count as a positive stimulus. The guilt made him swallow, saliva heavy as lead in his mouth, and he said to distract himself from it, “What, um, things am I using? To associate with spiders.”</p><p>“If you have no objections, I would like to use positive memories from Thomas’s childhood,” Logan said, and Patton’s heart jumped. “You have a strong attachment to them, and I hypothesize that their importance to your core functions will allow you to overcome this one illogical aversion more easily than, for instance, supplementing your exposure to arachnids with chocolate chip cookies.”</p><p>“That makes sense,” Patton said, and the more he thought about it the more he believed himself, believed Logan. Thomas did have a lot of positive memories- and his negative memories of spiders were what made Patton so scared in the first place. Switching the way he felt about spiders could be as easy as having them remind him of ice cream instead of dark rooms and waiting, glimmering eyes.</p><p>Suddenly he felt cold. He soothed himself with thoughts of mint chocolate chip and asked, making sure to give Logan all of his attention, “So when do we start?”</p><p>“The present moment would fit into my schedule, if it fits yours,” Logan said, so obviously hopeful that Patton had to lean toward him, just a little.</p><p>“Okay!” he chirped, and was rewarded with a hint of a smile across Logan’s face. “Does it matter what memory I choose?”</p><p>“Not so long as it is considered positive,” Logan said, and Patton nodded and concentrated, summoning a pale blue marble into his hand. Thomas’s memories took many forms- for Logan they were usually book-related- but Patton’s collection usually morphed into little knickknacks when he took them outside his room. McDonalds stuffed toys, miniature picture books, Pokemon cards... he was gratified that this one was a marble. The memory felt old-fashioned, so its container was old-fashioned, too.</p><p>Patton closed his eyes, and the memory unfolded like the petals of a rose. He didn’t remember the details of it-- Thomas had been too young to hold onto the context-- but the sensations were there, warm and soft and cozy. It was summer, and Thomas was in a field of strawberries. His family were ahead of him, talking about something he didn’t understand, but he had a basket in hand and instructions to pick the ripest strawberries he could find. He was eating some of them as he went, tart sweetness exploding on his tongue with every bite. Strawberry juice was all over his hands.</p><p>Patton drifted, soothed by the uncomplicated joy of a child eating fruit in the sun, and Logan asked, “Are you situated within the memory?”</p><p>Patton nodded.</p><p>“Very well,” Logan said, “then I am applying the spider now,” and sharp legs touched on Patton’s knee.</p><p>The fear hit a second later, thin and sharp like a knife slipped between Patton’s ribs. He sucked in a breath, forcing himself to keep his eyes closed and the marble in his palms, and tried not to shake too visibly. His leg. The spider was on his leg. It was crawling up his thigh, he could feel it, spindly little legs and too many eyes and jerky, jittery movements and poison fangs and what if it went under his <em>clothes-</em></p><p>“Try to focus on the memory,” Logan said, and Patton didn’t respond, because if he opened his mouth the spider might go in. He was barely breathing. Tentatively he twitched his fingers around the marble, soaking in the twin sensations of glass in his hand and strawberry juice bursting in his mouth, and the spider’s light movements stalled out on his hip, denim jeans too thick to let him feel its motion.</p><p>The spider could have been anywhere. It was on him, hiding, waiting, and as soon as he opened his eyes it would skitter up toward them too fast to dodge and Patton wouldn’t be able to- “Get it <em>off,”</em> he whimpered, finally, and Logan’s hands brushed against his shirt.</p><p>“It’s gone,” he reported after a moment, then met Patton’s eyes, his own gaze bright. “How are you feeling? I’ve prepared a brief survey, if you’re amenable to taking it.”</p><p>Patton shivered in another breath and made himself smile, tucking the memory back into the aether of the Mindscape where it belonged. He took the survey Logan offered- on a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your current apprehension regarding spiders, that was the main question, with a few below it- and scrawled out his check marks before handing it back. His whole body felt shaky, heart pounding raw and quivery in his chest. He wasn’t sure how fast he could stand up, just then. Good thing Logan had been thoughtful enough to give them beanbags.</p><p>“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he promised, even as his brain screamed at him never to let himself come into this room again, not when there were spiders around.</p><p>Logan actually grinned. Patton swallowed his lingering terror and did his best to grin back.</p><p>*</p><p>The second memory Patton used was a newer one- a celebration with Thomas’s friends after finishing filming a big video, where Thomas had gotten pleasantly tipsy, just enough to be relaxed, and had gotten convinced into karaoke. Roman had been over the dang moon with their performance, Virgil drowsy and warm beside him, Thomas grinning in the living room by the karaoke machine. 2000’s pop hits, the kind that made Patton cheer up immediately. He heard Jason DeRulo and Hannah Montana and was thrown right back to fun times.</p><p>This time he was dumb enough to be wearing shorts. He focused on the memory as the spider crept up his leg, each creepy step making goosebumps rise on Patton’s skin, but the celebration broke up behind his eyes like a reflection in rippling water; he couldn’t make the colors combine into something that made sense, and kept focusing on the wrong things- the taste of cheap beer that Thomas had tried and didn’t like, an awkward conversation, the discomfort of sweaty clothes.</p><p>Finally he had to open his eyes, and saw the spider on his hip, dark and spindly like a brown recluse and ready to crawl up his torso. “There’s no need to move,” Logan said. “It’s harmless. It is incapable of biting you.”</p><p>Patton nodded weakly, feeling like the slightest movement would set the creature off. He couldn’t tell if it was looking at him. He <em>felt</em> like it was looking at him, like it would jerk forward at any second and rush toward his eyes and crawl up his face, but he couldn’t tell. His skin crawled. His chest was tight, mouth dry. If he wasn’t calm, did that mean the spider would go after him? Did that mean Logan would get mad? He didn’t want Logan mad, not when he’d been so happy to have Patton come back for another session, not when he’d been so down lately. But Patton thought he might stop breathing if the spider came any closer.</p><p>In the back of his head, the bluetooth speaker played tinny Britney Spears, <em> Oops I Did It Again </em> but Mary Lee was laughing about how she’d thought Barbie sang it for the longest time. Thomas was giggling along, Joan and Lee and Talyn all close enough to bump shoulders, a couple friends trying real hard to beat each other at Smash Bros without focusing completely on the game. Link fell off the side of the platform and spun back up. Someone spilled something and swore in the kitchen, laughing. The spider crept up Patton’s shirt, so close that if he looked down he’d make it so it could climb onto his face without touching his neck first, and Patton couldn’t move at all. He was trapped, just as trapped as he’d be if Logan had tied him up and left him with the spider in the dark, and he couldn’t afford to cry. His heart was exploding in his chest.</p><p>Finally Logan plucked it off him, handling the bug as deftly as he would a pencil, and Patton forced himself to relax. He filled out the survey so his fear number was 9 instead of 10 like last time. He hugged Logan, praying the spider wasn’t still on the other Side somewhere waiting to tag back along, and left the room.</p><p>He closed his bedroom door and sank down onto the floor and gasped out sobs until there was nothing to feel but his hands fisted in the carpet, on his knees, in his hair. His room clustered in, keepsakes closer on their shelves until he could see every nook and cranny, until there was nowhere for a spider to hide, and the light went soft and pale, the rest of him trying to comfort what was scared. This was the part of Thomas’s mind that wanted to comfort. <em> He </em> was the part of Thomas’s mind that wanted to comfort.</p><p>He couldn’t ruin <em>this</em> for Logan, too. Not after the wedding.</p><p>It didn't matter if he couldn't sleep that night, or the night after, because Logan was more important. Patton had to make the experiment work for him.</p><p>Eventually, he fell into a pattern. He played Monopoly with Janus and, reluctantly, Virgil; he cooked with Roman, doing the basics so Creativity could garnish their creations into Instagram-worthy art pieces; he played video games with Remus and managed to laugh, honestly for real, when Remus got him with a koopa shell again in Super Mario Bros. Then he went to Logan’s room, to his friend’s excited eyes and informative chatter, and talked with him for a while about whatever Wikipedia rabbit hole Thomas had fallen through until it was time for the session to begin.</p><p>Then Patton summoned a memory, flinching from the feel of the trinket or cloth in his hand, and waited for the monsters.</p><p>No, that was- it was dumb, they weren’t monsters, Virgil was spidery and he wasn’t a monster. Patton was just a wuss.</p><p>He forced himself still through a dozen spiders, getting really good at going away in his head and pretending everything was fine when Logan asked, and dreamed of waking up to a thousand spiders in his mouth and nose and under his skin, spinning webs and chewing through muscle and laying eggs in his eyes.</p><p>Patton couldn’t scream when he woke up for real. He bit his blanket so he could convince himself a spider couldn’t get through his gritted teeth, then closed his hands around his knees and rocked for a bit, trying to soothe himself. His breathing slowed, just a little. That was good. He reached for his embroidered pillow, memories of grandparents and plasticky couch cushions and little chocolate mints in a bowl low enough to reach, and felt his blood turn to ice.</p><p>He was on the other side of the room before he could stop himself, on his feet and hyperventilating. The spider was on him, he knew it was, on his back or under his shirt or on his glasses where he couldn’t <em>feel-</em></p><p>“Oh,” Patton whispered, and sank down to curl up against the wall. His voice was thin and ragged, like a frayed thread. Breaking the silence felt like painting a target on his back. He forced through it anyway, brave like you had to be while climbing out of a nightmare. “That’s not good, huh, Patton. That’s really not good.”</p><p>He didn’t talk about it. Janus gave him suspicious looks sometimes, but that was all right. Janus was suspicious of everybody, and recently Virgil’d been giving Patton those looks, too.</p><p>It was Virgil who stopped him outside Logan’s door, hand closing on his wrist like the grip of an ice sculpture. Virgil could’ve been an ice sculpture, too, with how tense he looked just then. </p><p>“Kiddo?” Patton asked, glancing at Logan’s closed door. It was 1:02. Logan had wanted to meet at 1, and he got antsy whenever Patton was late. “Is there something you need?”</p><p>“You’re freaking me out,” Virgil said right out of the gate, and Patton’s heart swooped with guilt. “Patton, <em>seriously</em>. You think I can’t tell when someone’s scared?”</p><p>“I’m getting better,” Patton said, because he was, he had to be. Logan needed this experiment to work. “I don’t scream when I see spiders anymore-”</p><p>“I can <em>tell</em> when Sides have nightmares,” Virgil said, and Patton froze. “I’m Anxiety, it’s what I do. I can’t <em>not</em>.”</p><p>“They’re not important,” Patton tried, weak, and tried to pull his wrist out of Virgil’s grip. No dice. “Virgil, you’re really not being <em> ice </em> right now.”</p><p>“So you admit you’re having nightmares?”</p><p>“They’re not-”</p><p>“Summon a happy memory,” Virgil said. Patton flinched without meaning to, eyes flicking down to check for threats. “Yeah,” Virgil said, more tired now. “That’s what I thought. You can’t keep doing this, Pat.”</p><p>“I’m getting better,” Patton said firmly, and this time it was Virgil who flinched. “I know you’re worried, kiddo, but you don’t have to worry about this. It’ll be fine once I- once it’s better.” Patton desperately ignored how much it didn’t actually feel like it was getting better. </p><p>“If you’re sure,” Virgil said, finally releasing his wrist. It felt more like acquiescence than agreement. “But, Pat, I’m- I’m serious here. If it doesn’t start helping, you don’t have to keep doing it. Logan won’t mind if you want to do something else.”</p><p>Logan would <em>say</em> he didn’t mind. Logan would say that Patton had the right to stop at any time, but his eyes would go the slightest bit duller, corners of his mouth pulling in, shoulders going stiff and straight and it’d be like the wedding all over again, Patton pressing skip because he couldn’t handle what Logan was doing, couldn’t handle trying to fix his own flaws. Patton ignoring him for his own comfort. Patton failing his family.</p><p>He thought Virgil might not understand that, not when it was Patton scared and not himself. Virgil always hated when other Sides were scared for real, especially when he wasn’t causing it for what he thought was their own good. His idea of a threat was everything from a kidnapping to a kid <em> napping </em> where he hadn’t expected to find any visitors at his friend’s house at all. </p><p>The bit of wordplay brightened Patton, a little.</p><p>“I really appreciate the concern, but I’m already late for this session. We’ll catch up later, okay?” he said, smiling as warmly and genuinely as he could, and went into Logan’s room. Virgil didn’t stop him.</p><p>That day he stayed perfectly still as the spider crept over his face, eyes shut and fists clenched tight around a Hot Wheels toy from McDonald’s- greasy food and loud music and the tunnels in the play area, palms slick with sweat as Thomas crawled across the rope netting and yelled down to his mom- and tried not to scream when the tip of a leg poked into his mouth. </p><p>Logan almost grinned again, once he was done, and said they were making progress.</p><p>Patton agreed, Logan’s cheer warming his chest. Then he went back to his room and threw up, over and over again, until all that was left to retch up was bile and he still couldn’t get the bristly feeling out of his mouth. </p><p>He didn’t sleep again that night. He knew better by that point.</p><p>*</p><p>The experiment continued, and Patton started having to force himself to go back into his room at the end of the day. The memories were everywhere, strewn all over the floor, and maybe it’d used to be comforting having them so close but <em> now- </em></p><p>It was nothing. He just got jittery whenever he brushed up against one, that was all, unless it was so negative it made him flinch from the recollection alone. Those were safe, even if it meant remembering Thomas flubbing his lines or falling on the sidewalk. Most of those didn’t have spiders in them, anyway, and Patton was practiced at avoiding the ones that did.</p><p>Then, after a dozen sessions,  Logan asked him to choose a less happy memory. “I would like to test whether your aversion remains lessened without the same degree of positive stimuli,” he said. “If you’re amenable, of course.”</p><p>He’d been saying that a lot more lately, watching Patton with narrowed eyes and dragging their talks out longer before they started the sessions, going over tardigrades and how to find four-leaf clovers and what made things cute to people but <em> scientifically.  </em></p><p>Patton wasn’t sure what to think of it.</p><p>He chose a washcloth with Optimus Prime on it so he wouldn’t have to, one of the ones that came in shapes and unfolded when they got wet; it was a memory of Thomas taking a bath by himself, bored even with the bubbles but enjoying the warm water, saturated with the smell of soap and the quiet sounds of sloshing water and the plumbing in the walls. Someone across the house was taking a shower. </p><p>The spider dropped onto his foot this time, creeping up his crossed legs onto his thigh, and without the insulating warmth of a happy memory it was-</p><p>Patton was-</p><p>He stifled a whimper and squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the washcloth tight between his fingers. Logan said something, but he didn’t hear; all there was were the shifty movements of the spider creeping up and up and up, and even with all his focus Patton couldn’t tell which way it would go next. He couldn’t predict it, so he couldn’t brace. Every second was like being stabbed in the heart by new fear, the thing crawling over his arm under his sleeve and Patton couldn’t <em> breathe- </em></p><p>He felt like he was watching his body from above it, except his eyes were closed so he couldn’t watch anything. All he could do was sit and tremble, breath stilted in his lungs. His throat hurt from working to keep himself quiet. He tasted bathwater. </p><p>It was fine. He was fine, getting better, everything was <em> fine </em> and it was <em> on his cheek- </em></p><p>He didn’t realize he was crying until a gloved hand touched his face to wipe it away, spider pulled from his skin, and then he couldn’t stop. He hitched in a sob and collapsed into the other Side- and what was <em> he </em> doing here, had Logan realized how badly Patton was failing- and curled his face into Janus’s shoulder, trying to chase out the feeling of skittery legs under his eyes. </p><p>Someone was talking. Patton recognized the cadences but couldn’t stop hyperventilating, couldn’t make himself think clear enough to recognize who they belonged to. He had to keep quiet. It was so hard, keeping quiet.</p><p><em> “Leave,” </em> he finally heard, snapped and short, and then it was just him and Janus in Logan’s room, Patton shaking like a piece of paper in a fan. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he forced out, because if Logan was still there he had to hear that first. Janus sighed, the only response, and something wilted in Patton’s chest. “I can’t- can I open my eyes?”</p><p>“It’s only us,” Janus said, which probably wasn’t a lie, and Patton shuddered in a breath and let himself look. </p><p>His sight was blurry with tears and strain. “I’m sorry. Is Logan mad?”</p><p>“You need to rest,” Janus said, and Patton’s heart clenched at the non-answer. “Will you sleep in my room tonight? Since you can <em> clearly </em>sleep in yours?”</p><p>“You know about that?”</p><p>“I’m not <em> actually </em> a moron, recent events notwithstanding,” Janus snapped. “You’ve been on edge for weeks. Even <em> Roman’s </em> noticed.” The hint of vitriol at the mention made Patton wince. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”</p><p>“Being <em> nice </em> ,” Patton snapped back. “Being present, and actually listening, and- Janus, he was <em> happy </em>.”</p><p>“And <em> you </em> were crying,” Janus said, the two of them alone in Logan’s room, beanbags disappeared so they had to sit on the floor. Patton wasn’t sure when the experimental setup had disappeared from under them. Thinking of it hurt more than staying still. “Believe it or not, <em> Heart </em>, but I do have priorities. Don’t try to tell me you thought this so-called experiment was helping.”</p><p>“It wasn’t just meant to help me,” Patton said, softer, accusing. Janus met his eyes, mismatched irises gleaming, and something crumpled in his chest. </p><p>He’d done something else wrong. He’d tried to help and made everything worse, again, and whatever trust he’d gained from Logan was gone again like dust in the breeze. He wished it made him feel anything more than numb.</p><p><em> “Patton,” </em>Janus said pointedly, and Patton rested his face in the other Side’s shoulder. “If you won’t listen to Virgil, at least listen to me.”</p><p>“He told you about that?” Patton asked blankly, but- Virgil had been cold, had faltered when Patton insisted he was fine, almost like he’d known Patton was lying. Virgil wouldn’t have confronted him just outside Logan’s door where the other Side might hear. But if someone <em>wanted</em> Logan to hear, if someone thought Patton would listen better to Anxiety than anyone else-</p><p>“Never mind,” he mumbled, "let's just go," too tired to bring it up, and felt Logan’s room start to chill around them. They were in his space. He never liked anyone in his space, not when he hadn’t explicitly invited them there. He liked things to go right and <em> stay that way. </em>“I think we might be overstaying our welcome.”</p><p>Not that a few extra minutes mattered, really, in the scheme of things. Patton got the feeling he wouldn’t be welcome again either way.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: psychological self-harm, psychological experiment that's supposed to be exposure therapy but ends up more like aversion therapy, implied impersonation, arachnophobia/spiders, panic attack, dissociation</p></blockquote></div></div>
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